


How to Get the Boy and other Web Swinging Adventures of Ranboo [Redacted]!

by verlaines



Category: No Fandom
Genre: AKA the Only POV I'll Ever Write From, M/M, Ranboo POV, superhero au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 16:20:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30108690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verlaines/pseuds/verlaines
Summary: Ranboo doesn't really have it all. He's a reedy highschooler with a crush the size of Jupiter on the smartest, cutest guy in school. He's also probably Ranboo's bestest friend. He's also the guy who makes Ranboo all the stuff he needs to fight crimes. Also, Tubbo doesn't know. That he's Spiderman.Yeah. Uh... hereallydoesn't have it all.
Relationships: Ranboo/Toby Smith | Tubbo
Comments: 12
Kudos: 117





	How to Get the Boy and other Web Swinging Adventures of Ranboo [Redacted]!

**Author's Note:**

> will upload this sporadically but i promise to upload it. sequel 2 other fic is also coming along. sched is tight :/ rl is hard. wrote this after tubbo called tom holland and olly murs fit. his type is wack.
> 
> kudos & comments r appreciated :3

Ranboo _doesn’t_ blush when Tubbo all but slams his way into his dorm room, Ranboo’s name on his lips and hair a wild mess of curls over his eyes, his phone clutched tightly in his hand, cheeks red from running all the way from the lab straight to the dorms, most likely. His chest is heaving as he pushes his fringe back, his arm still extended and showing Ranboo the screen of his phone, where—sure enough, his friendly neighbourhood Spiderman is swinging about in that horrid red and black onesie, the green glint of the lenses making Ranboo cringe. 

“Niki pulled this from the Daily SMP—” Which means Niki had to bribe Wilbur, probably, and Tubbo had to bribe _her_ in return. Probably with Minx’s new class schedule. “And, oh my god, that’s my design! That’s—oh my god! That’s the web cartridge design I made two weeks ago!” 

Ranboo pushes himself away from his computer, tucking his pencil behind an ear as his swivel chair swivels closer to Tubbo, who is now clutching the phone like it’s something precious, his dark eyes glinting something pretty as he oohs and ahhs at his hero. He tries not to let it get to him, the amount of fawning Tubbo does with Spiderman. 

Tubbo grins up at him once he’s decided he’s had enough of looping Spiderman swinging about New York, dropping his phone into his lab coat pocket and humming happily, before launching into a tirade about all the blueprints he’s got _cooking up in the lab_ , and Ranboo tries not to look so scandalised when he begins ranting about electro-shock webs that could ‘ _be fatal, if Spiderman wants me to make them fatal’_ , his hands moving a mile a second, cheeks reddening even more in his excitement. 

“What, you’re not pissed he didn’t buy the patents, or whatever?” Ranboo asks, crossing his legs at the knees as he watches Tubbo pace happily in his room, entrenched in his little world, and while he hates disturbing Tubbo in the middle of his brainstorming, he’s really got to know. 

He did, after all, just steal them from the lab after Tubbo told him about it. 

Tubbo looks at him like he’s stupid. “ _Pissed_?” He asks incredulously, perching himself on Ranboo’s desk, absentmindedly pulling his hair back with one of the many hair bands that’s littering Ranboo’s desktop. “Well, I mean, if he could drop me an email before taking my shit next time, that’d be well appreciated, but I made that _for him_ _to use_. You catch my drift?” 

Ranboo crosses his arms, echoing the mischievous smile on Tubbo’s face. “I’m picking up what you’re putting down.”

“I knew you would.” Tubbo winks at him, the ponytail on his head sloppy and not as polished as it usually looks when Ranboo does it, but he can’t find it in himself to mind when the curls of his hair falls into tiny little baby curls that make his cheeks look a little bit rounder, his eyes a little bit bigger. 

Ranboo clears his throat, hugging his arms as he looks away.

With a noisy sigh, Tubbo steals one of the jerky on Ranboo’s snack tray, shoving it into his mouth and hopping off the desk. “That’s that, then. I have to get back or _Gogy_ will shout at me for abandoning him _at the workstation_ ,” He does an even more posh accent to mock George’s, rolling his eyes while he’s at it. “And if I make George mad, Tommy will go on and on and on about it.” 

That makes Ranboo laugh; Tommy does have a tendency to hero-worship George quite a bit, even when he’s meant to take Tubbo’s side. Despite all of Tubbo’s complaining, though, Ranboo knows he respects George. The man, after all, is one of the brightest minds this side of the country, and Ranboo is half-sure George knows of his, er. Side job. _Half-sure._ Paranoid, maybe. 

“Was Spiderman the reason you came running to me?” Ranboo used to work at the Daily SMP with Niki and Wilbur, but he got fired after he told Schlatt he couldn’t camp Long Island for eighteen hours just to get a low-res photo of Spiderman or any of his cohorts, considering he was a senior still in highschool, and barely at the age where he needs to work full time.

Tubbo laughs at his question like it’s the world’s worst insinuation, reaching over to flick at a loose strand of hair in front of Ranboo’s face. 

“Of course not,” He says, pausing at the doorway. “I just wanted to see your pretty face before Gogy kills me over leaving the soldering iron on.” He wiggles his fingers at Ranboo, a small smile on his face. As he slips out the doorway, “Anyways, toodles!” 

With a sigh on his lips, Ranboo fidgets with the buttons on his button up, absently tracing the flowers on it as he sits there in Tubbo’s wake, but then the door slams back open again, and Tubbo peeks his head in. 

“Are we still on for movie night with the boys? Jack wants to watch a Marvel movie.” 

Ranboo grins. “ _Jack_ is the one who wants to watch a Marvel movie, is he?” 

Tubbo sticks his tongue out childishly. “So maybe I want to stare at RDJ for a little bit. Who doesn’t?” 

“Touché.” 

With that, Tubbo clicks his tongue, throwing him a finger gun. “See you at eight. Bye, sexy!” 

And then he’s off again. 

Ranboo feels himself heat up, nervously scratching at his neck as he watches the door click closed behind Tubbo, once again leaving him lonely in this tiny little dorm room, sitting with his desktop open, countless little poems about Tubbo in hidden files that he’s yet to delete. 

He’s on cloud nine as he swivels his way back to his desktop, the stupid smile on his face a staple from whenever Tubbo decides to deign him with his presence—which is all the time. Tubbo’s once told him that not even Heaven or George’s resting bitch face or the threat of getting bad grades can stop him from coming over just to annoy Ranboo. 

His skin is tingling from something other than his messed up spidey senses, and try as he might, he can’t stop himself from dragging his fingers against the piece of hair Tubbo toyed with, wondering when exactly he became a lovesick teenager straight out of a coming-of-age movie. 

He tabs out of his homework and unplugs his headphones to jack it into his scanner, kicking his feet up and settling in for a couple of hours of tuning into the police feed, hoping nothing too bad happens tonight so he doesn’t need to go out. Today’s a special day. It’s movie night, and that means Ranboo can sit beside Tubbo and put his arm over the back of the sofa and act like it’s normal. 

The last movie night, Tommy hogged Tubbo’s attention. Which isn’t bad, of course. Tommy and Tubbo has this bond that’s been forged from _years_ of friendship, and Ranboo’s—well, he’s only been in the university for a couple of months. It would be more weird if Tubbo dropped Tommy. 

Still, it doesn’t make Ranboo feel any better when Tubbo chooses to sit away from him and beside Tommy, his legs thrown over his childhood friend’s lap, loudly chewing at a bar of Butterfingers while Tommy cussed and yelled at the movie they were watching. 

Ranboo rubs at his chin as he reminisces the memory, wondering when he’d let himself be _jealous_ over Tommy Innit. It’s not like—

Well. 

It’s not like Tubbo likes _Ranboo_ , either. 

Sighing, Ranboo tugs off his headphones, saying to hell with his homework as he pulls out his suit from underneath the bed, slipping it on and blinking as the lenses adjust to his eyes. He hasn’t really got the know-how to do things the way Tubbo does it; with mechanics, Tubbo is the genius, and Ranboo is just along for the ride. His original web spinner was barely holding on for the first three months he’d used it, and then Tubbo came along, hemming and hawing about his newest invention, and, well. 

That was the reason Tubbo came over and everything. 

Most of it, at least. 

He cracks open his window, thankful his mom had pity on him and helped him get a solo dorm room, because he’s not sure how he’d even manage to do this whole masked vigilante thing if he did have a roommate. 

Not that he’d mind. Tubbo comes over, but not nearly enough as to make Ranboo feel not so lonely in this barren dorm wing. 

With that thought, he taps at the built in bluetooth that’s hooked up to his scanner, wincing when the thing whines into his ear, before Captain Puffy Lambelle’s voice filters in, reporting on a minor drug bust in Harlem. 

Ranboo watches as the sun barely begins to set and then—

He’s falling from the tenth floor of the dorm building, his posture tight and together as he pencils his way down, building up speed for an upswing that tugs at his shoulder muscles, laughing a little when the wind whips waspishly against his body.

There’s still time before eight P.M. He can do a little crime busting in the meantime. 

**

Captain Puffy Lambelle is a formidable woman that stands at six feet, not as tall as Ranboo but definitely more imposing and intimidating. She’s got the signature Lambelle frown on when Ranboo swings down to her level, rubbing at his cheek from where one of the bad guys planted a sucker punch, hard enough to throw him back. He wonders what’s in the water that’s making all these dudes pull such hard punches. 

Ranboo wonders if Tubbo gets his frown from Captain Lambelle. They’ve definitely got the eyebrows for it. 

Elegantly arched and yet so _judgy_. 

“Spiderman,” Captain Lambelle greets, crossing her arms over her chest. _Uh-oh_ , Ranboo thinks, murmuring a weak little _hey, Captain_ when she narrows her dark eyes at him. He’s only ever seen her smile once, and that was when she came over to the university to pick up Tubbo, and then never again. She frowns. “You’re not supposed to be here.” 

“But I am,” Ranboo retorts, before curling into himself when he realises he came off a little cocky, “Er, with all due respect.” A pause. “Ma’am.” 

“ _With all due respect_ , kid, I wouldn’t know what I’d do if you manage to get yourself pinched between a rock and a hard place.” Captain Lambelle cocks a hip to the side, a gloved hand perched on it. Ranboo didn’t know she could look even _more_ unimpressed. Unimpressed and very scary, considering she’s got a hand inches away from her gun. 

Ranboo shifts from foot to foot, doing little jumps as he looks at the Captain. “I can dish it out, Captain. Have you seen me?” With that, he flexes his unfortunately stickly arms, hoping to charm the Captain and wilting when he definitely, decidedly, does not.

She glowers even more. She looks just like a mom. 

With a laugh, Ranboo takes a step back, fidgeting with his webspinners. “Cool.” 

Her eyes blink in surprise when her gaze falls onto his wrists, where plain black bands of metal reside, his webspinners built into them discreetly. As loud as Tubbo is, he _knows_ how to make cool looking doodads, that’s for sure. 

The only downside is that everyone who _knows_ Tubbo also knows what his work looks like, because it’s not like he tries to hide it. Tubbo’s… well known for his gadgets. Mostly because he once actively tried to arm the whole university with non-fatal weaponry with ducks stamped onto them, and _also_ because once, Tubbo jacked the PA system and had it blare out Good, Old Fashioned Lover Boy through the speakers for a whole three days, all because they wanted him placed in AP classes in the _other_ building, where none of his friends were. No one could undo what he’d done. 

They had to graciously ‘allow’ Tubbo some leeway with picking his classes the next semester. 

“That’s—” She narrows her eyes at him, waving off one of her officers that came to talk with her. Somehow, she makes the whole puffy, stark white hair work for her. Ranboo's never been so scared of someone who looks so wholesome. “You know my son?” 

Ranboo coughs. Loudly. Awkwardly. Some of the police people turn to look at him. How does he go about this? If he says _no_ , she’ll assume he stole from Tubbo, and then she’ll plant a cap in his noggin’. And if he says _yes_ , then that just narrows down her list of People Who Could Be The Masked Vigilante Who Is Also A Pain In My Ass, and Ranboo is _masked_ for a reason. 

One, because his mother will kill him for doing something like this, and two—well. He doesn’t want anyone to know. 

Yes, not even Tubbo. Because that’ll put everyone he knows and loves in danger. _Tubbo_ will be put in danger. 

And while Ranboo is half-sure Tubbo can get himself out of any bad situation with a paperclip and some firecrackers, Ranboo doesn’t want to put him in danger. 

He wants Tubbo alive and loud and annoying and most importantly, _right by Ranboo’s side_. 

“Oh, wow, I’m _hungry_ ,” Ranboo says, instead. “I should go have dinner now. Growing boy and all that.” 

With that, he slings a web overhead, lifting himself up into the air as Captain Lambelle watches as he swings away, her face pensive. Ranboo curses himself as he makes a sharp turn into an alleyway headed for Manhattan, hoping he’d make it just in time for movie night, because he _will_ be mad if he manages to miss out on the one time he’ll be around his friends when they’re not all cramming for a class or being depressed because of said classes. 

That, and that’ll probably be the only time that Tubbo will come to him without talking about his work at the lab, or about how _cool Spiderman is, he’s so tall, Ranboo. I bet he can punt me into the fucking sun._

Ranboo _can_ , if he put his back into it, but he won’t. 

He’d never thought he’d be jealous of himself, and yet here he is, jealous of himself, because Tubbo spends most of his free time tinkering for new gadgets he _thinks_ Spiderman would use, talking about Spiderman, watching videos on his phone about Spiderman, smiling when he reads the daily news and sees Spiderman on there. 

Yeah. Jealous of himself. 

Just when Ranboo had thought he couldn’t get any more pathetic, he goes and disproves himself.

The tiny voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Tubbo is bored of his self-deprecation, and the Tubbo that he’s made up in his head is watching him with just as bored eyes.

 _Why do you do this to yourself, dude?_ He asks, and Ranboo doesn’t really have an answer for him. 

Tubbo’s probably his best friend. Out of all of them, Tubbo is _his_ ; the guy who picks him first, the person he can count on to always be on his side. And if Ranboo wasn’t so scared of putting him in danger, he knows Tubbo would be _ecstatic_ to know that Ranboo is—

That _he’s_ Spiderman. 

Ranboo lets out a yelp as he barely dodges the building that’s about to smack him in the face, letting out a breath of relief as he rounds the bend, laughing at the building’s poor attempt at—

Whatever he’s thinking is cut short when yet _another_ building smacks him right where it matters, knocking the wind out of him as he falls, disorientated and double visioned. 

The concrete is _wet_ underneath him, and Ranboo groans when it seeps into his suit, something he wishes he could just tell Tubbo about, because then Tubbo would _make him a better one_ , one that’s waterproof. 

Groaning, Ranboo closes his eyes. His vision is still spinning, but he’s glad he managed to knock himself into an alleyway and not some busy street, because then he can’t take his time laying down and trying to regain both his dignity and to get rid of his headache. 

“...fuck this.” Ranboo whispers, clenching his fists as he tries to get up, but failing when someone presses their foot against his chest, keeping him down. 

_Oh, crap_. 

A mean looking man with a mean smirk looks down at him, and Ranboo wonders if he should know him, because he looks really, really familiar. His stance, the set of his shoulders. He _feels_ familiar. 

“Look at you,” He sneers, and Ranboo tries to get up, but then that foot is pressing tightly against his neck, making him choke. “Who’d have known we’d catch you on a nightly stroll, huh?” 

The person a little bit behind him, hidden in the shadows, snorts in laughter but says nothing. Ranboo reaches up to grip at the—steel toed boot that’s stepping on him, but the guy’s… _stronger than him_. 

The mere thought makes him still underneath the pressure on his neck, aware of the beads of sweat that’s running down his back. 

“Don’t bother.” Leaning forward, Ranboo shivers even more when he realises that instead of a face, there’s only a porcelain mask on his face, hugging every contour of it and yet only decorated with a poorly drawn smile, staring at him with beady little dots for eyes. “It was funny, seeing you smack into that building. Like someone hitting a spider with a rolled up newspaper.” 

“We all have bad days,” Ranboo wheezes underneath the boot, trying his hardest to get away, but then the man’s other foot kicks at his forearm, pinning his palm with his other foot. 

“Not for me.” He says, and that’s the last thing that Ranboo hears, because the man behind him suddenly appears beside Ranboo’s head, noiseless like a shadow, hiking his leg up and then—

Nothing. 

**Author's Note:**

> will also lurk the community :>
> 
> -verlaine


End file.
